


A Night at the Opera

by A_bello



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Biting, Bottom Will Graham, Canon Divergence, Creampie, Dom/sub, Emergency lube packet, Glass buttplug, Kinktober, Kinktober day 3, M/M, Opera oneshot, Praise, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Top Hannibal Lecter, Toy Fucking, Toys, Will "Greedy" Graham, buttplug, cumplugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_bello/pseuds/A_bello
Summary: Will allows Hannibal to take him to the opera one night with the hidden hopes of indulging him in more ways than one.--They fuck at the opera.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948135
Comments: 13
Kudos: 188
Collections: NSFW Hannigram





	A Night at the Opera

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3, here we are! Sorry this submission is a little bit later in the day than my other prompts.  
> I hope you'll enjoy!

Will shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the edge of the bed, hands intertwined in his lap as he watched Hannibal finish putting on his three piece suit, all vanilla and maroon to match the man’s eyes. Will had put on his own black and white two piece back home, no tie, a little more casual than the ever so formal Doctor Lecter. He’d added a surprise, too, but Hannibal didn’t need to know yet. 

Blue eyes raked over broad shoulders, down a firm back, rigid with posture so naturally impressive it could have been beaten into the man for all he knew. 

Will stood when Hannibal sat beside him to put on his socks and shoes. “I’ll wait in the foyer.”

He said, turning on his heel and all but running out of the lavish bedroom. When Hannibal emerged in the doorway, a brown overcoat was fresh on his torso.

Will had put on his own grey wool coat and was adjusting a darkly colored scarf. He watched the elegant man pass him, and upon arrival at the door, Will turned and opened it, stepping onto and down from the porch. He heard the door shut and lock with a light click, and Hannibal came to stand at his side. 

Before the taller man could even take a breath in, mouth just opening to speak, Will answered his question.    


“Your car. Mine is..less than classy”   


He confided, turning his head to meet his psychiatrist’s gaze, which had already settled on him. They both picked at the hidden meanings behind what Will has said, and the decision it signaled, but neither said a word about it. Hannibal took the first step towards the driveway, and Will nodded to himself for just a moment, following close behind.    


It was a normal car ride, enveloped in mostly silence, save for the dim sound of classical musical. Hannibal drove comfortably, looking between Will-who kept shifting in his seat-and the road. He took a deep breath, glancing out the window as he exhaled. 

Will took that moment to turn his head and peer over at the driver, finally settling into a more comfortable position, eyes refocusing on the passing buildings and pedestrians. 

Upon arrival, they both knew they’d gotten themselves into something that was much more than either of them were prepared for. Regardless, the pair would brave the opera the same as they did everything in their lives:

Together. They got out of the car almost simultaneously, walking side by side into the building, through the corridors and into the theater. The halls were towering, marble ceilings high above them. Will’s knuckles brushed Hannibals, and the older man gladly entwined his long fingers with Will’s own until they came into the waiting room.   
People mulled about here and there, and Hannibal bristled with the energy to bring Will around to all of them, presenting the beautiful man like a rare gift he’d managed to snag. His chest puffed out and his hand hovered over his lower back as they mingled about. 

In the time before the doors to the auditorium were opened, Will was introduced to far too many people to properly remember. It had only been about 5 people, but his lack of energy to control his attention has resulted in his mind completely ignoring the small talk and focusing onto something else entirely.

Once everyone had slowly filtered into their seats, a small greeting was muttered into a microphone by a man in a purple velvet suit. Something about having a good evening, being polite, and enjoying the performance.

He walked off stage, in front of the curtains still, and the lights finally began to dim, enveloping the large theater in a velvety kind of darkness. Will straightened in his seat slightly, hands clasped once more.    
After a few beats of silence, he shifted, and the curtains opened. It was a short prelude, mostly just aesthetics and placements and plot developments before the main character finally came center-stage and let her jaw drop.   
She began to sing, piano playing despairingly in the background. Will stared, gaze fixed, lips pressed together, frozen with focus. He blinked his eyes a few times, hands moving to loosely sit atop his knees.

The sound of her voice was beautiful, echoing over the crowds like waves of sleet and rain, freezing them all into place with shock and emotion. Will hadn’t expected much from this experience-he was a jazz man, not an opera one, and he had expected to be unfairly high strung at Hannibal’s side. 

And yet, as he relaxed into his seat and let out a hefty sigh, accompanied with a change in the angle of his hips, he felt much more relaxed than Hannibal seemed to be.

The man was uptight, almost, his aura thick with formality in ways Will didn’t care enough to replicate.

The music rose in volume and pitch and Will’s short attention span was once again refocused..right up until he heard a soft sniffle beside him. He didn’t dare look, not yet.

Hannibal, tears already in his eyes, turned to glance at the man beside him, but his gaze lingered on-no, clung to Will. Eyes trailing his profile, tracing every curl, every detail in his jaw, ear, neck. He regarded his hand where it perched, firm, less twitchy than what had come to be normal.    
Hannibal looked back up to meet a pair of striking blue eyes. He held Will’s gaze comfortably, warm at his core from the sight of equal trust and need staring back at him.

Hannibal turned his head to look back at the stage, two uneven tears spilling over and down his cheeks, over his lips, leaving behind silver trails that tasted of salt and relief.    
Will’s attention remained on Hannibal, the silver gleam of his hair and the shine of fresh tears. 

He sucked in a breath and also turned, shifting in his seat once more, hand sliding from his knee to Hannibal’s, squeezing softly.

The other tensed, but not out of rejection.

  
By the arrival of the second intermission-they’d sat through the first, silently contemplating-Will and Hannibal had settled into their seats for the most part and let themselves be captured by what took place on stage. Applause, chaste and grateful, rang throughout the auditorium, and after the pair had contributed a good minute of it, they stood to walk briskly past the rows of seats and out of the grand room, towards the back staircase that led to the bathrooms.

Will hadn’t even hit the last step before Hannibal grabbed his hand and pulled him flush against him, stopping him. 

They shared a quick kiss, far too much teeth and desperation to be savored but enough to soothe the dull ache of their erections and other needs. 

“Bathroom.”

Will grunted, pulling him along, past a clearly confused gentlemen who had just left the sterile environment. Hannibal gladly followed him, hand in hand, a small smile playing across his lips.

He itched to stop them once more, shove Will against the door and take him there, but the curly haired man was clearly persistent; he didn’t let Hannibal do much more than squeeze his hand until they’d locked a stall door and were safely inside.

And then, finally, Hannibal could gather the front of his shirt and shove him against the wall at least, leaning into another desperate, open mouthed kiss. 

Will tasted like salt and vague traces of whiskey and mint, sweet and sour on his tongue, and Hannibal couldn’t get enough. He opened his mouth wider, felt their teeth clack, his lip pulled up in a snarl. He sucked Will’s tongue across his own and they wrestled, danced, sucked each other into their spaces. This was more than a kiss, it was a dance, it was a dedicated ritual in which Hannibal  _ gladly _ attempted to devour Will Graham, and in which Will Graham  _ gladly _ made peace with being devoured.

Their hands were everywhere, grabbing, exploring,  _ claiming _ , Hannibal’s tugging at his belt and at his curls, Will’s trying to claw through his clothes at his back, at his waist, clinging to the back of his neck. 

The two men ground against each other almost painfully, their pants all too tight now. It could have been easy, had they gone with this; intermission wouldn’t be in danger of ending and all they’d have to do was hide a few stains. 

But Hannibal and Will were far too complicated for a solution as simple and primal as some dry humping. 

Will pushed him back, chest heaving as he tried to get the air his nose simply couldn’t offer, his plump, wet lips still hovering just in front of the other man’s. And suddenly he was turning in Hannibal’s arms, pressing his opposite side as before into the surface. 

He was panting along the wall, humidity gathering against his red and abused lips while he pressed his forehead, his cheek, flush against the cool tile. 

His hands trembled where they pressed against the wall, restlessly aching to reach back and grab at Hannibal again, tug at his shirt, his hair. But Will knew to be good, knew that Hannibal would really take his time with him if they missed the ending of intermission in 20 minutes.

His belt finally came loose, and Hannibal didn’t waste any time removing it. His pants dropped to his feet, boxers in tow, the air cold and sudden against his warm skin.

It didn’t matter, though, because Will felt he was radiating heat when he heard Hannibal’s sharp intake of breath when he finally caught a glimpse of Will’s gift.

His rim was stretched fairly wide, a glass buttplut completely inside him, little more than the flat end sticking out.

Hannibal pressed his palm against it, shifting the position of it inside Will, listening when the man presenting for him hissed through his teeth. 

He gathered his fingers tight around the edges of it, just enough to get a grasp but not enough to obscure his vision of the toy, before pulling it slightly. Lube shone on his ass, his rim, the butt plug. Hannibal let out a harsh breath of laughter before pushing it back inside without releasing his grip on it. 

He leaned in, pushing Will’s jacket off and his shirt higher up his back just enough so that he could kiss the middle of his spine with appreciation.

“Is this for me?”

The pale man nodded silently, hips twitching, already seeking out more than he’d been given.

He was a greedy, greedy man. 

Hannibal hummed, biting where he’d kissed, only lightly. It was a surprising contrast to the desperate way he’d practically attempted to consume Will just moments before, but it was carefully measured. 

And suddenly, his wrist flicked, an obscene squelch sounding out as Will’s hips twitched once more, thinking the plug would be removed. But, it wasn’t and was shoved deep inside him once more, Hannibal quickly setting a brutal pace.

He kissed up until he had to skip some of his back because of his shirt, straight up over his nape, into his hair. Hannibal took a deep breath through his nose, the pricks of arousal and sweat gathering in his sinuses. He let out a soft purr, free hand sliding down his front slowly, barely the touch of a ghost when he grazed his bare crotch

“You’re being so good, Will, do you think you can keep your hands up for me?”

Will cried out, nodding again, shifting and squirming just enough that his hips arched in a new way, the plug getting shoved so roughly against the thick pad of muscle inside him, overstimulated from a long night of the toy being deep inside him.

“Ah, Hannibal,”

He mewled weakly against the tile, pushing back with just a little bit more fervor while the man fucked him on the glass toy. He looked down at where his legs were spread, ankles stretching the waistband of his pants and underwear dangerously. His cock stuck out, heavy and aching between his legs, Hannibal’s hands tickling lightly over his inner thighs. 

Part of him ached for his touch, for the heat deep in his gut to build to completion, but Will wouldn’t dare ask for release. Not when Hannibal was being so sweet to him, playing with him as a punishment for preparing without his knowledge.

“Will, do you think you can be good for me?”

He asked, firmer, voice deep and thick.

“Yes, Sir, yeah, I can”

He responded, eagerly rambling. Hannibal shushed him, kissing just behind his ear, hoping to move at a decent pace; he felt torn. It would be wonderful to quickly replace the toy with his painful erection and have his way with Will, but he also wanted nothing more than to spread him out on his silky sheets and wear down his defenses, up until he was sobbing his name, barely coherent as he squirmed beneath him. All in good time, he supposed. 

They continue on like this, Hannibal’s hand rough where it slides beneath his smooth clothing, his other wrist aching dully as he quickly works his hole open for his own cock. 

Finally ready, too hard to play any longer, Hannibal slowly removed the plug, dragging out the amount of time he can closely watch his rim stretch around the glass, pulling, almost like it’s trying to suck it back in. Begging to be full, greedy for more, more, more.

He moved his hand away from where it traveled over Will’s nipples lightly beneath his shirt, reaching for a square of toilet paper to put on top of the dispenser. He put the wet plug there, grimly making sure it touched no other surfaces.

Once it was settled, he quickly moved to stand behind Will, quickly unbuttoning the bottom buttons of his shirt and ridding himself of his belt and pants. Will moved his hand and Hannibal, lightning quick, reached up to slap at it. He whimpered and Hannibal hummed, hands wandering over his hips.

“There's a packet of lube in my pocket, if you need more, Sir.”

Hannibal snorted, stepping back to lean down and fiddle with his pants, mumbling short praises.

“Of course you’re prepared, my cunning boy.”

He smirked and glanced up at Will from where he perched beside him, the other man looking down at him with a delicious flush adjourning his skin, warm to the touch. 

He stood and moved behind him again, squeezing out a generous amount of lube, slicking it over his shaft with quick, thorough strokes, before positioning the head of his cock at Will’s gaping entrance. 

The other’s breath halted when Hannibal pushed in, slowly. He watched his hole stretch to take him in, pleased with the sight of him welcoming him in, his body pleading for Hannibal to fill the gaping emptiness he’d been left with. 

Hannibal’s head fell back, fingers moving to press into his hips, rough enough to leave behind soreness and bruises for the next morning. He wasn’t even fully seated in him. 

“Oh, Will,”

The man in question pushed back on his cock greedily, forcing him in to the base. Hannibal quickly recuperated enough to rear his arm back and slap across his ass, tsking in response to the way Will cries out in response.

“You greedy, dirty little thing. Already stretched open and waiting for my cock, and you’re still so needy, even now that you have it.”

Will shuddered, whimpered, even, fingers curling in on his palms against the wall he was currently being pushed into. He couldn’t even reply, in fact, he could do little more than bite down hard on his lower lip and groan, half coherent and wanting.

“Hannibal, please-”

Hannibal drew back a little bit, slowly, before snapping his hips suddenly, harshly pushing his way back inside Will, who moaned at the sudden intrusion again. 

“Use your words,”

He says softly, leaning forwards to bury his nose at his nape once more, one arm sliding around his waist as he quickly finds a brutal pace, pounding into Will from behind.

“Sir, please,  _ more _ ~”

He begs, breathlessly, far too sweet for Hannibal to deny. He leans back again, arm sliding back so that he can brace one hand on the small of his back, the other still gripping his hip. Hanni thrusts forwards, still unexpectedly precise within his carelessness. They find their rhythm within the steadiness Hannibal has set, Will eventually learning when to rock his hips back, when to let his legs slip wider apart, Hannibal in turn finding a good angle to fuck up into Will at. 

The sounds of skin slapping on skin were heavily present in the bathroom, their rushed love-making prominent for all those who dared take a peek or listen in. His legs strained at the position, knees occasionally knocking into the backs of Will’s. Hannibal could feel the way his thighs trembled against his own as he draped himself over his back, pressed them together to fuck into him shallowly. 

“Oh, fuck,”

Hannibal hummed, turning his head to nuzzle Will’s damp hair, to take another deep inhale and mentally writhe in the strength of his perspiration. 

“Such naughty words, dearest,”

He scolded, one hand raising from his waist to strike his ass again, before sliding around to and up his front, palm firm where it slid over his nipples before settling on one, fingers quickly twisting and pinching in all the ways they need to to get Will squirming, bright red and crying out against him. He still managed to hold his waist roughly, thrusts growing sporadic against him.

“Oh, sir, please, Hannibal-”

He tweaked his nipple roughly in chastisement, a reminder of his title, which caused Will to moan shockingly  _ whorishly _ . 

“Sir, please, can I?”

Hannibal growled, deep inside Will now, grinding against him more than pushing inside him. It was alright, for them both, as the angle let him brush against that twitching, tense spot that always made Will shiver. 

“Can you what?” 

He prodded, quietly, dragging his lips across the side of his neck. Will grunted, head falling back, neck weak from the tension of being jostled against the wall so hard.

“Can I cum?"

Hannibal hummed, smiling before nippling softly at his neck.

“Of course, darling boy,”

He reassures, hand sliding quickly from his chest and over his stomach, quickly wrapping around his cock. Within a short few seconds, his hand was already coated in precum, slicking his own palm as much as it was Will’s member. HIs boy wiggled and pushed against him, gasping just after each and every wanton sound that fell from his lips. 

“Oh, fuck, Hannibal, fuck fuck-”

He yelled, pushing back against the older man, hard, hips twitching forward into his hand while he spilled over Hannibal’s fingers. Hannibal kept stroking, even as Will cried out, trying to squirm away from him, straight back onto his cock. Within seconds Hannibal was pushing up, into his clenching warmth, his orgasp rolling through him, hot ropes of cum shooting out inside Will. 

They stayed like that, Will finally dropping off the odd perch on his tip-toes that he’d adopted, leaning against the wall, Hannibal pressed against his back. Hannibal panted against his nape before leaning back, clean hand sliding up his side gently, comforting the tired boy. 

“We have to get back soon, sweet boy, intermission is surely over by now.”

He cooed, taking a deep breath while they both calmed down and assessed how quickly they’d be able to clean up.

Hannibal, finally softened, pulls out and takes the plug from where it rested on a rough square of toilet paper. He reaches around his boy and slides his fingers into Will's mouth, grinning tiredly as Will sucks them in past his knuckles, taking them greedily no matter how deep Hannibal pushes them. He relishes the clench of Will's throat around his fingertips, how Will's eyes shine with tears.

He’s always enjoyed the pure sight of his deep blue eyes, the way they look when he’s distraught or sneaky. When Hannibal inserts the plug into him, snug in his greedy ass, he can imagine how wide those pretty eyes have gone, with little more proof than the muffled cry that sounds from around his fingers. He watched some of his remnants dribble around the plug, licking his lips quietly, eyeing the contrast of white liquid and bright red skin.

"There we go, all set," 

He purrs as Will swallows, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth because his relaxed jaw can't hold a seal around Hannibal's fingers. Hannibal pulls them out, humming, and wipes them on Will's cheek, saliva mixing with Will’s own cum.

His cheeks heat beneath his touch with shame, making them and his ears that delicious shade of red that makes Hannibal go mad with the need to bite and lick his blush away. He doesn't deny himself the urge, gripping Will's chin to turn his head for better access and biting along his cheekbone. Will winces, and shivers, knuckles going white where his hands clench, still obediently pressed against the wall. 

Will shifted his footing to try and adjust to the cold mass inside him, holding Hannibal’s warmth inside still, but too soon after was that same man pulling up his pants and underwear up his legs and over the red swell of his used ass. He stayed with his face pressed against the wall when Hannibal fastened his button, only moving to stiffen when Hannibal smacked his ass roughly through the pants, reminding him of his raw skin. 

He distantly heard the sounds of his lover composing himself when a whisper spilled from his throat. Within seconds, Hannibal had his arms around him and had draped himself over his back.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Will licked his lips, turning his head again, voice soft.

“Do we have to go back?”

Hannibal simply smiled, kissing his cheekbone over the red marks there, where his teeth had dragged across his skin just moments earlier.

“Not at all, sweet thing.”


End file.
